_Cain._ Am I or am I not this which they think me? My mother loves me not; my brother Abel, Searing my heart, commends my soul to God; My father does not shun me—there’s my comfort: Almost I think they look askance on him. Ah, but for him, I know not what might happen; for at times Ungovernable angers take the waves Of my deep soul and sweep them—who knows whither? And a strange impulse, struggling to the truth, Urges me onward to put forth my strength, No matter how. A wild anxiety Possesses me moreover to essay This world of action round me so unknown; And to be able to do this or that Seems cause enough without a cause for doing it, My father, he is cheerful and content, And leads me frankly forward. Yet, indeed, His leading—or, more truly, to be led At all, by any one, and not myself— Is mere dissatisfaction: evermore Something I must do individual, To vindicate my nature, to give proof I also am, as Adam is, a man. SCENE VIII. _Adam and Eve._ _Adam._ These sacrificings, O my best beloved, These rites and forms which you have taught our boys, Which I nor practise nor can understand, Will turn, I trust, to good; but I much fear. Besides the superstitious search of signs In merest accidents of earth and air, They cause, I think, a sort of jealousy— Ill-blood. Hark, now! _Eve._ O God, whose cry is that? Abel, where is my Abel? _Adam._ Cain! what, Cain! SCENE IX. _Cain alone with the body of Abel._